


Feelings Are Hard

by kiri_bronach



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen To Cecil, Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil Has A Third Eye, Cecil Has Tentacles, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Strexcorp is Evil, anxiety and stress (sort of), cecil has no self esteem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 07:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12700377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiri_bronach/pseuds/kiri_bronach
Summary: In which Cecil is under a lot of pressure at work and ends up confessing a secret and some insecurities.Alternately,Cecil is a precious bean who is too fixated on his job and needs to be the one who gets taken care of for once.Set post episode 42





	Feelings Are Hard

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy!

Cecil is already in bed when Carlos comes home from work. It's not surprising, considering the day he had. Discovering that Fey was actually a computer program had taken quite the obvious emotional toll on him and, judging by the tone of his voice at the end of his broadcast, he had likely cried over it. And then there were, of course, all the issues with the new management, which came across in many of Cecil's indirect, if not subtle, comments.

 

Carlos sighs and climbs into bed behind his boyfriend. He wraps an arm around the taller man's waist and snuggles his face into the crook of Cecil's neck. Cecil shifts backward. Carlos can feel the warmth of his body against his stomach and the wriggle of his tentacles as he positions them so they won't make uncomfortable lumps in Carlos's sleeping space. These little movements are the only signs Cecil shows of being awake, but Carlos takes them as encouragement to ask his question.

 

"Cecil?"

"Hmph?" is his response.

"Can I ask you something?" Carlos continues.

"Yeah," comes Cecil's voice, groggy with exhaustion.

"What you said today, about Fey's management? About how they restrict and control her? Now, I'm not really good with words, numbers are more my thing, but I could tell you were _saying_ more than you were saying. If that makes any sense. See, I told you I'm not good with words. Anyway. Was it also about you? Is your new management, is Strex, restricting and controlling you? Are... Are..." Carlos's voice breaks and he pauses before continuing, "Are things in Night Vale worse than you're allowed to tell us?"

Cecil is silent for several minutes, words, for once, escaping him. He settles, finally, on the simplest answer, but ends up rambling out more than he meant to. "Yes. Yes, everything is... falling apart. Reconfiguring. Strex is... absorbing this town and I fear so deeply for what will happen when... if... it succeeds. And I am so, so powerless." The emptiness in his voice as he says this last word sends a pang of sorrow through Carlos's gut and he reflexively tightens his grip on Cecil. "I'm supposed to be a, I guess a leader of sorts. Or a protector, more accurately. I'm supposed to _protect_ Night Vale, not sit idly by as it gets destroyed. People look to me for hope, and I am letting them down. Letting all of them down..." Cecil's speech trails off and is replaced by a single, shuddering sob, and then another and another.

Carlos can feel tears pulling at his own eyes, but he refuses to cry. If he cries, Cecil will worry and Cecil already has too many things to worry about. So instead of crying, Carlos pulls his boyfriend closer. Cecil slides easily across the sheets, surprisingly light for his height and extra appendages. Carlos wonders, briefly, if he's been eating enough. But that is an issue for another day.

"Shhh, shhh," Carlos soothes, stroking the hand that isn't holding Cecil gently down his lover's hair. "You are not letting anyone down. You are doing the best that you possibly can, and if anyone expects more than that from you, that's their problem. Not yours. It's not your fault if some people can't see you for the wonderful, brave, dedicated man that you are. You're doing so much, in your own way, to resist Strex. And I love you for that."

While Carlos was talking, Cecil's tears subsided and his breath slowed from desperate gasping to a steady, gulping rasp. For one peaceful moment Carlos thinks he's successfully calmed the other man. Then Cecil rolls over to face him and shakes his head. Carlos can feel the movement against his arm.

"No, Carlos. Carlos, you don't understand. I'm such a coward. Carlos... Carlos. Can I tell you something?"

"Of course, Cecil." Carlos is entirely unnerved at this point, his heart beating fast with some form of dread. Cecil says nothing, but moves again. The sheets rustle as he sits up and within seconds the room is flooded with lamplight. Carlos blinks against its glare, but Cecil, standing now with his back to the lamp, seems unaffected. Silently, Cecil lifts the hem of the pale blue t-shirt he is wearing and pulls the thin cloth over his head. As it drops to the floor, Carlos notices what must be the thing Cecil is trying to show him.

Bruises spread across the radio host's torso, all in various colors signifying various states of healing. One, right at the base of Cecil's left set of ribs, is particularly large and fresh-looking. Instinctively, Carlos reaches for it and Cecil flinches away from the touch. "Don't," he snaps. "It hurts."

"Oh Cecil," Carlos whispers.

"This is what Lauren and Daniel do when they aren't happy with my performance. This is what I get when I say something not approved by Strex, when I try to deflect blame away from one of the interns, when I try to sneak out, when my subversive comments are a bit too blatant. If they even so much as think I'm not working as hard as I could be, this is what they do. I could be doing so much more against them, putting so much more effort into saving Night Vale. But I'm not. Because I'm a selfish coward who is too afraid of physical pain to truly help the people he cares about." And Cecil breaks down into tears again.

"Oh Cecil," Carlos says again. He stands up and reaches up to put his arm across Cecil's shoulders, which are fortunately less bruised than his stomach and chest. Grabbing Cecil's arm with his other hand, he guides his boyfriend back to the edge of the bed. They sit side by side, Carlos holding Cecil as he sobs. "How long has this been going on?"

"Forever, technically." Cecil doesn't stop crying as he speaks, and Carlos can just barely understand him. "Station Management used to hurt me too, sometimes. But it's gotten so much worse since Strex bought the station. Lauren and Daniel beat me so often..." Cecil clutches at his boyfriend as he says this, looking for the comfort he is just now realizing he needs. "It's starting to feel like I'm being used as a punching bag more than being punished for legitimate missteps."

"Cecil," Carlos says softly. He's trying to process what feels like too many things at once. StrexCorp's involvement in Night Vale, the way Cecil's employers treat him, the many months his boyfriend had been hiding this pain, Cecil's guilt over being even partially complacent even under the threat of torture, his own helplessness in the whole situation. Carlos can feel his heart breaking at how terribly wrong all of it is. "How am I supposed to explain to you that you're allowed to, no, supposed to care about yourself?" Cecil turns to look at his boyfriend. Tears glisten in all three of his eyes and the look of shock on his face shows that this is an entirely new concept to him. "Self-preservation is not a sin. It's something all organisms do - a basic and natural fact of life. If this is how Lauren and Daniel react over small things, I don't think I want to imagine what they'd do if you opposed them more openly." Cecil still looks doubtful, but his crying is slowing again and he's beginning to relax into Carlos's embrace instead of sitting rigidly. Carlos takes a deep breath and tries to let himself hope that he can talk Cecil through this. He hates himself for what he's about to say, but if the only thing Cecil can understand is his duty to others, then so be it. "You matter to so many people, Cecil. You matter to Old Woman Josie as a friend, to Abby and Janice as a family member, to Night Vale as a Voice. And most importantly, you matter to me. As my lover and my closest friend and the most caring person I have ever met. You might not be able to see your worth, but I can and so can everyone else. We don't want to see you die or almost die or suffer any more than is unavoidable. And no one, _no one_ , blames you for trying to avoid these fates for yourself."

Carlos isn't sure when Cecil stopped crying. He doesn't know when Cecil stopped looking at him with skepticism and started looking at him with admiration. All he knows is that it happened.

"And you said you weren't good with words," Cecil scoffs. His voice is light and playful. The only evidence of his recent breakdown is his blood shot eyes and tear stained cheeks. Carlos can feel the warmth of a blush spreading across his face. They watch each other in loving silence until Cecil yawns and Carlos remembers how late it is and how exhausting of a day it was for Cecil both physically and emotionally. He reaches over and turns off the lamp, making the room go dark once again. He lays back onto the bed and pulls Cecil with him.

Cecil curls around Carlos's side, resting his head on his boyfriend's chest and wrapping his arms and tentacles around the smaller man. Carlos returns the gesture, squeezing Cecil tight enough to hopefully offer some form of comfort, but not tightly enough to press too hard on his bruises. He can't help but wonder if his only two arms are enough or if someone more like Cecil, someone who could touch more of Cecil's surface area at once, would make him feel safer.

"I'm sorry to burden you with all of this," Cecil whispers. He's not even sure Carlos heard him until the scientist responds.

"Cecil, you are a living, breathing, feeling human being. It's ok to act like it sometimes."

"Hmmm," Cecil hums sleepily against Carlos's chest. He's still uncertain, still too used to thinking about himself in terms of duty rather than emotion. But everything about Carlos is reassuring, from the sincerity of his words to the protective way he holds Cecil to the light scent of the shampoo he uses to wash his perfect hair. Maybe Cecil doesn't yet believe he is someone worthy of this much attention, but he knows that Carlos believes it and for that he loves his scientist. "Tell me more about this fascinating hypothesis of yours," he prods.

"It's not a hypothesis. It's a theory. And not a theory in the way that Steve Carlsberg's conspiracy theories are theories. In science, when we talk about theories, we're talking about facts. You deserve all the love in the world, and that's a fact. And do you know what else is a fact?"

"What?"

"That you need to sleep."

"Fine then," Cecil pouts. He is disappointed, partially, that he doesn't get to hear any more of Carlos's perfect voice. But as he is realizing that he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open, he is also relieved that he finally feels safe enough to sleep. "Good night, Carlos. Good night," Cecil mumbles before drifting off.


End file.
